A few nights ago, I went to the beach to watch the sunset over Lake Michigan. As I was driving towards Tunnel Park, fat raindrops slowly began to fall on my windshield. I looked up at the sky and saw the storm clouds quickly approaching but that there were lighter clouds just beyond them. Determined to get to the beach, I continued on my way. I pulled into the parking lot as everyone else was leaving and made my way to the waterfront. There were a few groups of people lingering but it wasn’t long before I found myself alone. I glanced down the beach and saw the storm coming up the coastline, the dark clouds quickly approaching and bringing with them a sheet of heavy rain. As it began to downpour, I couldn’t help but be overwhelmed with God’s beauty and power; the new intricate design of the sand as the rain scattered its particles, the sudden change in light as the storm clouds blocked the falling sun, the sound of the heavy rain drops bouncing off various surfaces playing in peaceful unity.
After a few minutes of being swept up in the storm, it began to lightning and thunder. I was elated because I love thunderstorms but my initial excitement was quickly replaced with fear as the low growl of thunder suddenly boomed above me and lightning struck the water no more than 8 feet in front of where I was sitting. The crack of the lightening, louder than the resounding thunder, caused me to jump up and sprint back towards the beach entrance. As lightening continued to hit the water with intense frequency, I realized my makeshift shelter was a metal tunnel and that I lacked knowledge about lightning. All I knew was that I was alone, soaking wet, and that water, metal and electricity don’t mix well so I sprinted back towards the car, running towards my fear and away from God’s beautiful spectacle.
Once in the safety of the car, I remembered that the storm didn’t look too big at a distance so I drove south to the State Park, still determined to see the sunset. As I parked the car and got out, the rain began to subside and I saw the sheet of rain continue to slowly drift north, towards Tunnel Park. I plopped down on the wet sand and reflected about what had just happened.
Three things came to mind. The first is that our God is a God of the storm. He is present before, during, and after every trial and tribulation. Sometimes we fail to see Him in the eye of the storm due to confusion, fear, or anger, but He is present, making everything work together for our good. We may not see it or understand until after the storm has passed, but He is here through it all.
The second thought was that I ran. I didn’t just run but I sprinted with speed that I was unaware I possessed; clearly my biological response to flee is functioning well because adrenaline continued to surge through my body long after it was needed. I was peeved at myself for running away; if God is a God of the storm, then I didn’t have anything to fear. I missed out on continuing to revel in God’s awesome power and trusting Him to protect me. Don’t get me wrong – I am not advocating being stupid and irresponsible- but I wish I hadn’t let my fear dictate my decisions. (After doing some research about lightning, I feel better equipped to take on my 1 in 700,000 chance of getting hit so that next time, I plan to keep myself firmly rooted in the sand.)
More than anything, running highlighted a theme in my life. Running requires movement, from one thing and towards another. Movement has been constant for the past four years and I love the crazy chaos that comes from living a full life. Coming off of an insane senior year that can be categorized as the longest and fastest sprint to date, this summer was long overdue. The month of May was filled with an abundance of time that I filled with sleep and restoring my sanity. Now, I find myself antsy and unsure of what to do with the lack of structure that this summer seems to be providing.
What God has begun to make clear to me is that this season is one in which I need to learn how to stand, not move. This is a season to slow down and learn how to dwell in the truth and reality of the gospel. The next 11 months is going to be all about movement but before I can go and do, I need to be deeply rooted and learn how to stand in God’s presence. One of my pastors talked last week about how missions is a response to what God has already done through Christ and the Spirit. We are not the ones who are taking action – God already did and we are merely responding to his gracious work. God is breaking into earth and His abundance is all around us. When we pause in awe, we are taking time to acknowledge the miracle that God is here and in our present lives.
And that’s worth standing for.
I want to know Christ and the power of his resurrection and the fellowship of sharing in his sufferings, becoming like him in his death, and so, somehow, to attain to the resurrection from the dead (Philippians 3:10-11)
